Last week we designated as Christmas tree weekend. Saturday morning we worked with the boys to set up our tree and unpack the obscene amount of decorations we have. We primped, we strung lights, we assembled a small village, we scolded for making the ceramic lady lay on the roof of the church. We were immersed in holiday delight. Oh yeah, and we were on official day two of potty training wee beast. He enjoyed most of the festivities sans pants, but hey, he made it to the potty, so who cares, right? It was afternoon and we had one last task on our yuletide to-do list: decorate outside. It was cold. Colder than cold. So cold that we bundled Miles up (our outdoor lover), walked to the front of the house, only to have him say he was "cheewy" and was going inside. Rob looked unnerved at him being indoors alone, but I said, nah, the tv's on, he'll just hang out for a bit. Even now, writing those words I feel an icy shiver down my spine. We braved the cold wind, strung our outdoor lights and were picking up the last bits of junk when Miles was loudly talking to us through the front window. Sans pants, of course. It looked important and Rob went to check it out as I finished up. As I entered the house, I heard the washing machine going, and saw Rob stuffing our curtains in. Still in his fluffy fur-lined hat and coat, he was muttering to himself and blowing fine wisps of steam out of his ears. Apparently, while we were freezing our light bulbs off outside, Miles was experimenting with what worked best as toilet paper. He left a deposit in his potty seat, but tracked through the house leaving a trail of destruction and mess behind him. While leaning over the couch looking out the window and checking on our progress, we think he noticed he felt not-so-fresh and grabbed the nearest cleaning cloth around. My white living room curtains.
Fear not upcoming holiday guests, our house has been detoxed and cleaned. My white curtains no longer bear the stain of disgrace and our beloved beast is now successfully finishing his seventh day of potty training. He's doing really well, and I'll just have to be sure to remind him when he's married someday not to buy toilet paper curtains for his own home. Merry Christmas. And you'd better compliment my outside lights our I'll sick poop boy on you.